


The integrity of your revolution

by tigriswolf



Series: comment_fic drabbles [240]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Backstory, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And what makes you think I won’t kill you after everything you’ve done?” he asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jefferson

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The integrity of your revolution  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov  
> Warnings: violence, death, implied rape, AU during season 1  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1760  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, _Oh me, oh my, you make me sigh, you're such a good lookin'_ _____ Joe Dolan, Good Lookin' Woman

Once upon a time, there was a boy who wanted adventure. He was born the bastard son of a prince and his royal grandfather arranged for he and his mother to journey to a distant land. The boy didn't know, of course; he grew up without a father, watching his mother work herself to death, and then he was on his own, an orphaned peasant who’d barely seen ten summers. 

But he was a quick, clever boy, and he swiftly learned to pickpocket. 

When he was almost a man (though not quite), he learned that a very valuable artifact was being transported to the capitol for some arcane purpose he neither knew nor cared about. Through one of his fences, he also knew there was a noble to the north who would pay a hefty price to call that artifact his own -- but the priests were not selling, of course. 

It was the successful theft of the Spirit's Vase that led the Dark One to Jefferson's door.

Jefferson didn't know who he was, of course, the first time the Dealmaker popped into his kitchen.

“Jefferson,” the stranger said, head tilted as he stared at Jefferson, who had been preparing himself a meal. “You have the look of him about you.” 

There was a knife on the table, another strapped at Jefferson’s side. Instead of reaching for either, Jefferson asked, “The look of who?” 

“Jeffrey,” the stranger said. “Your father, Jeffrey II, king about five realms away, I think? He ascended the throne, oh, three years ago, now?” The stranger cackled, a disturbing sound that sent a shudder down Jefferson’s spine. “It was a lovely ceremony. His wife bore a son just last year. Adorable child. Great things in store for that one.” 

Jefferson watched the stranger wander about the room, at a rare loss for words. Just when he finally went to speak, the stranger turned to face him again. “Greater things in store for _you_ , dearie. I’m in need of a thief. You any good?” 

While not a fool, Jefferson was just a touch arrogant. The Spirit’s Vase was hidden away, not yet delivered to the nobleman who coveted it and Jefferson knew that no one could possibly be aware he had it – and so he declared, head held high, “The best.” 

The stranger cackled again. “Wonderful. I’ll be back with a job. Best hurry up and leave town, though. The priests hear its call.” And the stranger was gone, as soundlessly and suddenly as he’d arrived. 

Jefferson didn’t waste time. He was gone by sundown with little evidence he’d ever lived in the small apartment, and though the priests followed the Spirit’s Vase trail to the edge of the capitol, they lost it there. The Vase was never recovered. 

A lesser nobleman to the north, however, was very happy. And (fortunately for him) he paid Jefferson the promised price. 

It was on his third job for his employer (who’d yet to tell Jefferson his name) that Jefferson found the hat. 

.

Truly, Jefferson has no illusions about himself. He is not a good man. He’s adventurous. Daring. Dashing. Just a little dangerous. He procures valuable items, wanders through exotic locales, romances ladies, princesses, and queens. He spins the hat and goes. 

What do morals matter when the gold is plenty? Jefferson is at peace with himself. 

.

Wonderland. What is there to say of it? It is a mad, confounding place. It mocks the rules. He hates Wonderland and Wonderland hates him. 

.

He does not work solely for the Dark One, of course. Sometimes, he travels for himself, taking a vacation of sorts. Some of the trinkets he acquires, he keeps. Some he sells. Some he buries or burns because certain things are too dangerous, and it is not heroism. He likes the world, all worlds. He’d prefer to keep living.

Every so often, he goes to the kingdom of Jeffrey II. The Crown Prince is nearly grown now, a knight of valor and strength. Jeffrey II has a younger son and a daughter, as well. His queen, alas, passed away when the daughter was barely toddling. 

Jeffrey II still takes his pleasure where he will, and now there is no kindly grandfather to send the women and their bastards away. Jeffrey II has his own policy. 

The first and second time he noticed, Jefferson did nothing. But the third – 

The third is a young woman with hair the color of his mother’s, and a squalling infant in her arms with his mother’s eyes.

Theft is not all Jefferson knows. He’s also quite proficient with knives. 

.

Jeffrey II dies three months before his oldest child attains his majority. It matters not; King Charles ascends the throne and he is a good king. Jefferson visits now and again, just to be sure. 

.

Jeffrey’s last conquest dies of her wounds. She tells Jefferson her daughter’s name and sags in his grip, still trying to hand the infant to him. He doesn’t even have the chance to summon a healer. 

He stares down at the child and the child screams up at him, and there is a woman lying dead at his feet. He has allies but no friends, and a job with a deadline approaching. Inanely, he wonders if he should change his name. 

But no. His mother chose it. Whatever her reason, whatever kind of man his father is, she named Jefferson for him. 

“Grace,” he whispers, cradling the infant to his chest. There is much to do. 

. 

Holding Grace, Jefferson lights her mother’s pyre. Then he goes to Rumplestiltskin. He is owed one last favor. 

.

“Babysitting?” the Dark One demands, glaring at the baby gazing at him in awe. 

“You know something of vengeance,” Jefferson says. “Our last debt will be settled and I’ll be gone. Just keep her safe for a week, it’s all I need.” 

Rumplestiltskin sighs, rolls his eyes, and reaches for Grace. Jefferson knows no one else in any of the worlds would trust him with a child – except maybe that maid he had, for a time. Jefferson had liked her. 

Of course, probably not even that maid knew of Baelfire. 

“Jeffrey’s son,” Rumplestiltskin calls just before Jefferson steps through the door. “I’ve a special blade you should use. His soul will never find comfort.” The blade appears in the air beside Jefferson and he grabs it. 

In the hallway, he spins the hat. One in, one out. A king dead, scores settled, loose ends severed. The portal-jumper retiring annoys many, but Jefferson does not care. 

He knows what happens to orphans; he’ll not let that happen to Grace. 

.

As far as anyone knows, Grace is Jefferson’s daughter. Her mother died in an accident. Those who know of Jefferson’s former profession come to their own conclusions. What Rumplestiltskin knows, he never says. 

.

Jefferson’s one explanation for falling for Regina’s tricks is how woefully out of practice he is. Ten years being a peasant, being a father – he’d tried to be respectable. Kept away from the shadows. 

He hates Wonderland. 

He hates the Queen of Hearts. He loses count of her games, has nightmares of her laughter, hears her voice in his head -- _you look like your father. he was much better than you_. He kills many of her court, and she just laughs and laughs. He crafts thousands of hats and none ever work because nothing ever does in Wonderland, unless the queen wills it. 

Only once does he meet the queen’s eyes and say, “She looks like you.” The queen slaps him, but it is Jefferson’s laughter that rings throughout the workroom as the queen storms out. 

.

Of course, he never escapes. He is pulled from Wonderland and shoved into Maine in a world without magic. He sleeps for the first week, explores the second, and plots the third. 

He can leave the house, but not the grounds. He has knowledge in his head of the magicless world, and he utilizes it. As technology advances, he keeps abreast of it. He was the best thief of all the worlds, and not a half-bad assassin, as well. 

He watches, and he waits. 

That Grace is happy is the only thing that stays his hand until the Dark One’s appointed Savior arrives in a little yellow bug. 

.

When Snow White’s panicked flight triggers the expensive alarm, Jefferson decides to offer aid to the enemy of his enemy. If he can help the Savior realize her destiny, that would be lovely, as well. 

She makes a hat and as he falls through the window after it, he smiles because it spins and spins and spins. 

.

He would’ve been content to wait for Rumplestiltskin’s plot to work; whatever vengeance he wreaked against Regina would’ve suited Jefferson fine. 

But she leaves a card on Grace’s bike, and _that_ … 

.

She wants his help. “And what makes you think I won’t kill you after everything you’ve done?” he asks. 

She smiles as she says, “Because you don’t have it in you.” She turns her back, pours two drinks, walks to him as she says, “If you did, you would have done it twenty-eight years ago when I brought you here.” She settles before him, a smug smirk on her lips, as she says, “Because you know if I’m dead, you’ll _never_ get back to your daughter.” She holds out the drink as she says, “And I have a way for us to both get what we want.” 

Jefferson remembers the frightened girl who he had to remind of her queenship, Rumplestiltskin’s nervous pupil, the lovesick and brokenhearted child he helped break even further. He’s not a good man and he knows it because he still doesn’t feel guilt for anything he’s ever done, and anything he might have ever owed her was paid for in Wonderland. 

There is no magic in Storybrooke, Maine. There are, however, online orders and deliveries for _anything_ , if the price is right. 

“You look like your mother,” Jeffrey’s son says, slicing her throat and then stabbing deep into her heart with his sharpest blade. 

.

He goes home, after cleaning the mess. He brings her body to dispose of and resumes his vigil. 

Bright and early the next morning, the former Dark One knocks on his door. “How,” Rumplestiltskin demands, “do you expect the Savior to break the curse without the Evil Queen to fight?” 

Jefferson shrugs. “If you didn’t plan for every outcome, that’s not my problem.” He grins at his one-time ally, the closest thing he’s ever had to a friend, and then he closes the door.


	2. Cora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: The integrity of your revolution  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov   
> Warnings: violence, minor character death, implied rape, torture  
> Pairings: Cora/Jefferson  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 400  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: author's choice, author's choice, end of torture means having nothing left to take away

The portal-jumper hatter is an amusing diversion, at first. He's handsome and still has some fire left, no matter how Cora hurts him or uses him. There's even something regal about him -- and those eyes, she's seen before. Before Regina, before even the first child, the one nobody knows about. Prince Jeffrey with his cold eyes and colder heart. Cora recognized his game and stayed away. 

"You look like your father," she tells the hatter, smoothing his messy hair along his forehead. "He was much better than you," she adds, reaching into his chest and stroking his heart, lying purely for the pain it’ll cause. Such exquisite pain it is. 

He bucks beneath her, mouth open in a silent scream. He no longer screams for her; that he still has such strength of will is part of the reason she returns. 

The hatter can go where he likes in her castle and on the grounds. He cannot leave, of course, and must return to the workroom every night. She doesn't warn her courtiers to leave him alone as he wanders, ever seeking a way out, and she loses over a dozen before they realize that no matter how they beat him, he will still fight. One of the silly noblewomen demands restitution for her dead son and Cora laughs in her face. 

Any of the hats would work, if Cora allowed it. He makes some in what he believes to be secret, hoping if she never lays eyes on them, perhaps the magic will seep through – he knows better, of course, and Cora strokes gently along his jaw, kisses his lips so softly. “You are magnificent,” she tells him, kissing his lips and his chin and down his neck to his chest. 

The last time Cora sees the hatter, he looks her right in the eyes. Something is different about him; the fire that had been dying down after so long has been stoked back up, and he says, “She looks like you.” 

Cora knows that Regina has some plan in the works, though she has yet to ascertain exactly what. That the hatter knows about her daughter -- she slaps him soundly across the face and hurries out (in rage, not fear) as his laughter echoes behind her. 

Three days later, a pirate comes calling and the hatter, no matter how amusing a diversion he has been, slips her mind.


	3. Cora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: The integrity of your revolution  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov   
> Warnings: AU during season 1, grief  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 250  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, "You're going pay for this!"

She feels the moment Regina's heart ceases to beat. The curse does not fail in the magicless world Regina dragged all those sorry sods to, no, but in their home world, yes. The magic splinters, shatters, and Cora breathes for the first time in years knowing her daughter breathes no more. 

Someone has dared kill her daughter and Cora's rage explodes out, burning the very air around her, spiraling into the sky and setting it on fire. 

Cora has gathered so much power and it is useless, now, because she is _trapped_ and cannot go to her daughter, cannot cradle her, cannot comfort her. No. Regina is beyond her now. 

But. _But_. 

Yes. 

"I will find me way to your world without magic, my darling," Cora promises her daughter, "and I shall make whoever dared harm you _pay_." 

Yes. So sworn, she grounds the magic and turns to the pirate. “We must plan,” she says. “Come.” All of her previous ideas are useless now, but she warms herself with the thought of the agonies she’ll inflict on the one who stole her daughter’s life. 

The pathetic fools are panicking, running around in fear and shock, and Cora pulls the life from any who dare approach her and the pirate. Power is what she needs, enough to tear open a portal. Perhaps – she glances towards where the beanstalk still stands. 

“Make your ship ready,” she commands the pirate. “I’ll be back soon.” 

“Of course,” the pirate purrs, bowing with a flourish, “Your Majesty.”


	4. Jefferson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: The integrity of your revolution  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov   
> Warnings: violence, death, implied rape, AU during season 1  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1050  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Author's choice, author's choice, "The air in your lungs, the blood in your veins, the steel in your spine, the fire in your eyes."

Jefferson watches the town as everyone realizes Regina Mills is missing. He doesn't leave his property because he'd rather the Savior have no need to remember him, but he watches. 

Emma takes custody of the boy and leads a search, but there's nothing. Henry keeps trying to convince her of the curse, but – as Rumpelstiltskin complained about – without an Evil Queen to fight, the Savior is only a woman with an imaginative child. 

Grace is still happy, as she always is. With 28 years to gather knowledge and ponder things, Jefferson has wondered at Regina’s ‘revenge.’ It is not a bad ending, Storybrooke. No one knows who they truly are and they live the same days over and over (or they did) – but boredom is not the same as unhappiness. And Jefferson’s existence with both lives in his head is a true punishment in a way no one (not even Snow White and Prince Charming) else suffered. 

Had Jefferson cast the curse – well, he knows he’s not a good man. But Grace is happy and that’s what matters, now. 

It isn’t long before the rabble realizes who had the greatest motive to get rid of the mayor and they turn on the stranger in their midst: Emma Swan. While she curls up in the cell, Henry reads to her from that odd book; Jefferson goes to another telescope to see how Grace is. 

Rumpelstiltskin bangs on the door, shouting, “Jeffrey’s son! You have ruined centuries of work!” 

Jefferson crosses his arms, leans against the doorway, raises an eyebrow. “Have I?” 

Rumpelstiltskin’s fingers tighten on his cane. It’s been a long time since Jefferson saw him this angry, and the anger wasn’t directed at him, then. He’d turned priceless artifacts to dust in his rage. 

“Remember, Dark One,” Jefferson cautions him, “there is no magic here.” He smiles as Rumpelstiltskin visibly forces himself calm down, to back off. “Without Regina, this town is yours. Take it in hand, Mr. Gold.” 

“You’re right, of course,” Rumpelstiltskin murmurs. “I can still make this work.” He tries to glare Jefferson down but Jefferson just smirks as Rumpelstiltskin turns and hobbles away. At the end of the path, Rumpelstiltskin glances over his shoulder. “And after I’ve my magic back, dearie?” he asks. 

“You saying you won’t need a man who travels far and sees much?” Jefferson calls, still smirking. “A thief, who’s also an assassin?” 

“Jeffrey’s son,” Rumpelstiltskin mutters, “it would be so easy to hate you.” 

Jefferson laughs and closes the door. 

.

Of course, there is no evidence at all, so Mr. Gold commands they release Emma. She goes home to the schoolteacher who is actually her mother, who has been caring for her son, and Rumpelstiltskin ever so subtly pulls strings, attempting to spin gold from the tattered remnants of his grand plan. 

How to convince someone magic exists in a world with no magic? Jefferson tries not to cackle as he watches Emma stare at the former Dark One in bemusement, but he fails. 

Rumpelstiltskin succeeds in convincing Emma that such an enormous string of coincidences could not exist except by magic. It doesn’t break the curse and Rumpelstiltskin destroys the front room of his pawn shop in rage. 

Through the scope, Jefferson sees the moment Emma takes the book from Henry with a deep sigh. “I love you, kid,” she murmurs, leaning down to kiss his forehead. Jefferson tilts his head back as the wave of magic blows through Storybrooke. 

He laughs the rabble began to shout and cry, as they turn to Snow White and Prince Charming, as Henry jumps up and down chanting, “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” 

.

Jefferson smooths down his coat, takes a breath, and knocks on the door. 

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Greta says with a smile. “She never gave up, you know, back home. Waitin’ for you, I mean.” 

“I know,” Jefferson murmurs. “May I see her?” 

“Of course, Jefferson. Come in.” Greta steps back and turns, calling, “Pa – Grace! You’ve a visitor!” 

He hears a shriek, and then rushing footsteps down stairs, and then a whirlwind with dark blonde hair hits him, clinging tight. “Papa!” 

“Oh, Grace,” he whispers, “my darling, darling Grace.” He leans back against the wall, holding her, and he thinks, _What to do now?_

“I’ll give you a moment,” Greta says, vanishing down the hall. 

“Papa,” Grace asks, “where have you been? I prayed and wished every night.” 

He laughs a little, kissing the top of her head. “That, my dear, is a long story. I think that for now, I should speak with Greta and Frank, see about bringing you home.” 

She nods but doesn’t loosen her hold, so he stands back up straight and reaches for a better grip, carrying her further into the house. 

.

There are many things he could tell her. She is the age now that he was when his mother died, when he learned how to survive. Thankfully, their neighbors back home were good people and treated her well. Had they not been – but they were. And Regina’s mystifying curse kept them together, giving Grace a good life. 

He could tell her of his life before the Dark One came calling. Could tell her of the things he did in the Dark One’s employ and the employ of others, the things he did for fun. Could tell her the truth of her birth, or the countless ages he spent in Wonderland. 

Instead, he tells her, “I once had a friend in common with the queen, and he told her of a gift I had. An ability, you could say.” He spins her a tale of magic and wonder, and a trick that saw him trapped in a world from which he could not escape. It is true, all of it, and she cries and hugs him as tight as she can. 

She falls asleep still clinging to him. She looks so much like his mother. Jefferson kisses her forehead, gently detaches her, and leaves the door open behind him. In the hallway, there is a mirror. He glares at the man looking back and turns sharply away. 

The first time they met, the Dealmaker told him he looked like his father. He’s just glad Grace didn’t receive that curse, as well.


	5. Jefferson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: The integrity of your revolution  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov   
> Warnings: violence, death, AU during season 1  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1290  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Once Upon A Time, Jefferson, death doesn't fear him

The first time he killed a man, Jefferson was 19 and after a very valuable artifact in the man's care. His employer had mentioned that should the man suffer some sort of fatal accident, there’d be a bonus added to the price of the artifact. 

Jefferson’s _other_ employer, the infamous Dark One, had been withholding his pay from a previous job due to a minor disagreement they were having about the value of the object, so a bonus seemed pretty good. 

Jefferson felt nothing about the target. He was a rich man, like so many rich men. Maybe he was good to his servants; maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he loved dogs and gave horses extra treats; maybe he hurt the women in his power, or maybe he didn’t. Jefferson neither knew nor cared. 

His employer wanted the artifact, and Jefferson wanted the bonus. The target was old and frail, and his heart gave out during the night. He barely struggled as Jefferson held the pillow over his face. 

The bonus was 10 gems of his choice and a favor to be collected later.

.

Jefferson took a few jobs over the years where he only killed; he didn’t retrieve anything. They weren’t as much fun, though, so he didn’t seek them out.

Very rarely did he kill for any reason but money – he could count them on one hand. Five people, all told, in 32 years; he doesn’t count what happened in Wonderland, or the 28 years trapped in Regina’s curse. Two of Jeffrey II’s men, Jeffrey II himself, a former employer who didn’t wish to lose Jefferson’s services, and then Regina. Eighteen assassinations. He doesn’t remember how many died in Wonderland before they learned the lesson.

.

Watching the townspeople of Storybrooke try to resume some facsimile of normalcy, as they shy from Rumpelstiltskin, as they peer in dark corners to see if Regina has returned – Jefferson attends tea with Grace, helps her explore this world she’s been in for 28 years and yet never truly experienced, answers her questions about their time apart. 

Here in Storybrooke, magical animals are in human form and powerful sorcerers are separated from their magic and royalty have no thrones or crowns. Here in Storybrooke, Jefferson is known as the eccentric rich boy or the mad peasant. It is far more amusing than it is galling. 

.

“Papa,” Grace asks one evening after school, “if we could go back, would we?” 

Ten years as her father, however long in Wonderland, 28 trapped by the curse – 

“Do you want to?” Jefferson asks in reply. 

She thinks about that, glancing from her ipod to her laptop, over at the flatscreen TV, then at the door to the hall that leads to the first floor bathroom. “No,” she declares decisively. 

Jefferson smiles. “Then we won’t.” 

.

In the back of the safe installed in Jefferson’s house there is a hatbox. He retrieved it the same afternoon he disposed of Regina’s body. 

One bright morning, as Jefferson walks Grace to the bustop, a cloud darkens the sky, returning magic to those who had previously had it, yet somehow not replacing the human bodies of the non-humans. Magic is capricious, so Jefferson assumes it followed Rumpelstiltskin’s will. Because, of course it was Rumpelstiltskin. He needs his magic back to find his son, after all. 

“Papa!” Grace shouts, clinging to him. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmurs, scooping her up, smiling as the cloud settles across the town. 

Jefferson had a little magic, back home. Nothing compared to Rumpelstiltskin or Regina, or even Emma, once she’s trained. Enough to work the hat (which he knows never worked for Regina, after she’d arrived back without him). 

It was useless in Wonderland, where everything followed the Queen of Heart’s will, and in Storybrooke until… now. 

“What is it?” Grace whispers in his ear, her face buried in his neck. 

“Magic,” he says. “Magic has come back.” 

Not back, not really, not in this world where it has never been before. But to them, the poor sorry sods who don’t belong – yes, back to them. 

Grace ends up not going to school that day. She’s napping that afternoon when the Dark One appears in Jefferson’s kitchen. 

“Would you like some tea?” Jefferson asks. He waits until Rumpelstiltskin has chosen a chair and sat down to set the mug teacup in front of him. “I have a piece of information for you,” he says before Rumpelstiltskin can begin haggling or needling or whatever he came for. “It’s priceless, I believe, but I have a demand.” 

“By all means, dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin says, waving a hand benevolently. 

Jefferson smiles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Do you remember that servant girl you used to have? Belle, I think her name was.” 

The teacups shatter. “Belle is dead,” Rumpelstiltskin says quietly, eyes intent on Jefferson.

“In fact she’s not,” Jefferson tells him. “And I’ll trade you her location for Grace’s safety in whatever you’re planning.” 

“A man who travels far and sees much,” Rumpelstiltskin mutters. “That’s what you said. The things you’ve seen.” He laughs, a much softer cackle than Jefferson has heard from him before. “You were awake the whole time, while the rest of us slept through endless monotony.” 

Jefferson waits him out, arms across his chest.

Finally, Rumpelstiltskin sighs. “If Belle is alive and where you say she is,” he says, “then I’ll keep your daughter safe through anything that happens in this blasted town. I’ll even protect you in the bargain, should you not cause whatever misfortune it is.” 

Rumpelstiltskin gives him a full minute to think it over before demanding, “Well?” 

“The hospital,” Jefferson says. “Basement. There are cells down there. As of a week ago, that’s where your Belle was.” 

The Dark One vanishes without even bothering to fix the teacups. Jefferson leaves the mess and goes to his study, where his vast collection of notebooks resides, charting who and what all the townspeople used to be. 

Regina is dead and Rumpelstiltskin will be focused on his maid or his son, depending on the day. Snow White and her prince – king? It’s possible they were crowned while Jefferson was lost in Wonderland – are taking command, even though there are plenty of other royals around. It’s quite the mess. 

And the most fun he’s had since he retired. 

.

Jefferson was never truly notorious for few people knew what he did. He acted like a simple traveler, always from the next kingdom over even as he traversed worlds. He was a thief, perhaps the best of all worlds, for how many other thieves could jump through realities at the drop of a hat? 

He knows that at some point in the near-future, Emma will remember what he said about worlds lined up in a row. She’ll probably go to her parents first, or maybe Rumpelstiltskin, but she will eventually come to him. 

He locks the door to the study with a charm he learned from a mage and heads to the den, where Grace is watching old Disney movies. “C’mon, Papa,” she says, gesturing to the spot beside her on the couch. “Tell me who’s who.” 

Jefferson chuckles, sinking down beside her. He’s traveled a long road to come here, and he knows it stretches on. But it’s fun and he has nothing to fear – perhaps he’s not the most dangerous inhabitant in Storybrooke, but he’s close to it, and nobody here knows what he really is, anyway. 

“Is anybody GusGus?” Grace asks as mice sing on the screen. “He’s my favorite.” 

He drops a kiss on the top of her head before answering, “One of the mechanics; I’ll introduce you this weekend.” 

She bounces in place in excitement and Jefferson laughs again.


	6. Rumpelstiltskin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: The integrity of your revolution  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Denise Levertov   
> Warnings: AU during season 1; references to extended confinement   
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 365  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Once Upon A Time. any. _Sometimes it helps to forget where we come from_

"Rumpel?" Belle murmurs, hesitantly reaching toward him. 

"Oh, Belle," he says gently, angrier than he has ever been in all his years. 

He wishes -- but Regina is dead already, and at the hand of one she never truly considered a threat. That will have to be revenge enough. 

What he must do now is focus on Belle. Baelfire will understand, surely -- he was always such a better man than Rumpelstiltskin. 

.

Belle is... confused. And quiet. How long did Regina have her before the curse? And then 28 years in the cell -- as far as Rumpelstiltskin can determine, she has no memories from Storybrooke, so at least there aren't two lives warring in her. But 28 years (at the least) of solitude and darkness... it makes him want to weep. 

But he cannot weep. And there is no one in this godforsaken place he trusts except for the dratted hatter, so he waits for nightfall and then brings Belle to the hatter's door. 

.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Jeffrey’s son says, smiling at Belle. She smiles back, so she must remember all the talks they had while Rumpelstiltskin had plotted in the corner. “Would you like some tea? My daughter’s trying a new blend.” 

“Yes, please,” Belle whispers, gazing around in wonder. 

“I’ll just fetch her, then,” the hatter says, slowly stepping toward the door. He pauses and turns back to say, “Belle. It will be hard to come back to yourself, if you want to. But you don’t need to. You’ll have friends either way.” 

Rumpelstiltskin holds his silence as Belle seems to – settle into her skin. She nods before wandering over to the couch, where a tablet has been left. “What is this?” she asks, fingers barely touching it, glancing towards Rumpelstiltskin. 

“The passcode is the day I brought Grace to your castle,” Jefferson says, stepping through the doorway. 

“It’s called a tablet,” Rumpelstiltskin says. “While we wait for our hosts, I’ll show you how to work it.” 

The woman the Dark One fell in love with is still there, but even should he never again see more than glimpses of her, Belle is still before him and he’ll love her the same.


End file.
